The Rules
by Bellatrix Black
Summary: Most members of the Black family lived their lives according to the rules laid out by their parents. Years later, after the war has ended and some sense of normality has returned to the world, each Black's successes and losses are weighed and judged.


**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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Bellatrix always followed the rules. She taught them to her siblings, an air of superiority in her voice as she instructed her sisters and watched their young, curious faces contort with curiosity as they posed questions.

"But why?" they'd question, their innocence shining through.

"Because it's what we must do," she'd reply. "We're purebloods, and therefore, we have certain obligations."

It was due to this obedience that she succeeded in life. She was never alone, never forgotten, never challenged. She was the strong sister, the one who understood that she was meant for something so much more than this world could offer her.

Rather than waiting for the world's offer, she took it all and didn't think twice about it. Without listening to the pleas of those she beat down, she followed the rules her parents taught her.

_She sits in Azkaban, tired, alone, starving and losing her sanity. Her head aches and her body, stiff as a board, doesn't move. She's lost it all._

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Narcissa was always cautious when it came to the rules. At night she lays in bed judging each action and each word that the earlier day contained. On the outside she seems to calm and relaxed as she turns her back to the empty half of her bed where Lucius used to reside.

The large Manor is now empty, she muses. A chill runs down her back at the mere thought of the harsh truth. Her son is gone now, residing under the earth, much like his father. Many would calls her life tragic; she merely calls it non-existent.

_There are letters waiting in Lucius' study, and places to be. The diligent wife no longer speaks, nor registers the presence of anybody else in her life. There's an emptiness inside which she can't escape._

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Regulus loved the rules. To him, they promoted him in the eyes of his parents and his peers. He was always complimented and always thought of in the highest esteem. He was a handsome boy, many would recall whenever they were to stumble upon some memory long forgotten.

The only person in his life who ever loathed him for his respect of such things was his brother, and Regulus merely thought this as jealousy. Well, if Sirius were to think it wrong, Regulus would think it right. He never really did learn what was important in this world, though this was because he was blinded by his own ambition and selfishness.

He was a greedy child, but he knew his limits. All he wanted was to be noticed, to be taken serious and to be understood. And he tried to follow what's right, but such a view only shone within the final moments of his life.

_He's nothing but dust and ashes now; a lost spirit with no-one to depend on and no-one to run to. There's nobody around to recognize his death, or that he wanted to change. He lost the chance he should never have been given._

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Sirius ran from the rules. He ran as fast as he could to his next great adventure and didn't look back. His greatest friends were the pride and joy of his past, presence and future. They used to say that there was nothing the magnanimous boy could ever do, as he held no real conscience and cared nought for anything but what _he_ wanted.

He was a success in the most obscure of ways. He defeated his brother and parents, all of which had cursed him with their last breathes. He outlived them all and dared to walk in their old dwelling with neither shame nor pride.

There was once a time where he was lost; lost as he sat in the same corner and muttered the same words over and over out loud while the ocean surrounding Azkaban lashed violently against the shore. But he found his way back, to find some two years of contentment.

_He's gone now. Lost inside a different hell with a different corner to sit in. He can't move, nor breathe, nor open his eyes without feeling pain. He defined right and wrong by his own logic and never did find answers. He can't feel anymore, though he knows he doesn't need to._

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Andromeda was rejected by the rules. Her choices in life lead her astray from the usual, contemporary lifestyle of a Black family member. She no longer has to live with the constant beratings and expectations that were issued upon her day after day, year after year.

She has a daughter now, and she visits every Saturday for tea and biscuits. Nymphadora isn't like she was as a daughter. She kisses her cheek before she departs each afternoon and whispers the words, "Love you, mum". Such words can only hold such meaning if you allow them to, and it somewhat warms her heart to hear them ring in her ear.

She grows flowers in flower boxes perched neatly at every spare window, and every Valentine's Day, Ted picks a few of his favorites ("Tulips, because they're different") and presents her with them as she awakens.

_And she's free, Bellatrix muses bitterly._

And she's happy, Narcissa cries sourly.

And she's appreciated, Regulus sighs hesitantly.

And she's really living, Sirius proclaims joyfully.

"And I miss them," Andromeda whispers.

**Fin**


End file.
